


Capernoited

by Variative



Series: Pound of Dirt 'Verse [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, i would tag toast but idk his number and its late, ill tag him and kyr/ash/toast later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 03:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12380241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Variative/pseuds/Variative
Summary: CAPERNOITED - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy.





	Capernoited

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ActualWritesThings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualWritesThings/gifts).



> From this [prompt list](http://variative.tumblr.com/post/166180436073/send-me-a-word-and-a-characterseriespairing-and).

“Hey, heyyy,” Carver said, sauntering up to Kyr. They were in the mess, Ash sitting across from Kyr and Toast. Carver leaned against his back and bent over, pressing a sloppy kiss to Kyr’s hairline. “We still up for this evening?”

Kyr shrugged Carver off. “Yes,” he said, and flicked a glance at his boyfriends. Carver sat on Kyr’s other side, leaning back against the table, and pretended not to notice Ash glaring at him, or Toast’s “worried but trying to be neutral” forehead crease. “Are you already drunk?”

“Don’t cast aspersions on me,” Carver said. He didn’t know, exactly, what  _aspersions_  were or what it meant to cast them on someone, but it sounded pretty good. “Seriously, quit looking at me like that, it’s 1800 hours and we’re headed out on the down, a little pre-engagement buzz is justified. It’s not like I’m gonna get  _shitfaced.”_  

“You’d better not,” Ash said tightly.

“I would never,” Carver said, smiling. “Gotta take care of our boy.” He pinched Kyr’s cheek gently, and Kyr smacked his hand away and stood up.

“We’ll be fine,” he said to Ash, his hand coming down on Toast’s shoulder and squeezing. “I promise I’ll be safe.”

“We know,” Toast said, covering Kyr’s hand with his own. “Have fun, okay?”

“We will,” Kyr said. He smiled wanly and then he let Carver lead him off.

“Hey,” Carver said as they wound through the hallways to the medbay. He pulled a flask out of his utility belt and held it out to Kyr.

“Are you serious,” Kyr said. “You’re not even in your fatigues.” He took the flask though, unscrewed the cap and took a cautious sniff. His nose scrunched up in distaste. 

“I  _know_ ,” Carver said. “The armor is a comfort thing, you know. It’s not like I ever have or ever would drink on duty.”

Kyr gave him a  _look_. Carver linked their arms and put his head on Kyr’s shoulder for a moment, but then they were at the door to Kelly’s office and he had to let go of Kyr to key in the passcode. Kyr took a sip out of the flask and immediately sputtered and coughed. “What  _is_  that,” he rasped.

Carver smiled enigmatically and slid his duffel out from under the bunk. “I’m gonna take you shopping one of these days, I really do promise,” he said. “All my stuff fits you all wrong.” He stood up and took Kyr by the shoulders, looking him sadly up and down. “Who’s in charge of putting meat on those lanky bones of yours?”

Kyr folded his arms, hunching in on himself. He hated it when people did that, looked at him all pitying or worried or  _what happened to you_ with a side of  _freak_ , and Carver hated hated hated that he’d done that to Kyr, put that miserable half-guilty expression on his face and made him feel that.

“No, no, don’t do that,” Carver said, taking Kyr’s face in his hands and shushing him. “You’re beautiful, baby, there’s nothing bad about you. I just worry, I can’t help it.”

Kyr hunched a little more, and Carver let go of him and turned back to the duffle bag. “Here,” he said, pulling out a long sequined shirt and tossing it to Kyr, and a pair of filmy soft leggings. “Put those on.”

“Thanks,” Kyr mumbled. He took another sip from Carver’s flask, slower this time, and swallowed with a grimace before he handed it back. Carver screwed the top on and started to change out of his armor, stacking the plates neatly. By the time he was done, Kyr was all changed, and by the time Carver was into his own clothes—a backless glittery thing that was somewhere between lingerie and actual clothes and cute little black shorts, because Carver had an amazing ass and better thighs and he really appreciated it when people agreed with him on that—Kyr had his fatigues folded neatly on the bunk and was himself perched on the edge, and he’d gotten out Carver’s flask again and was sipping daintily from it.

“Don’t you look cute,” Carver said, grinning. He came and stood in front of Kyr, close-close because Carver didn’t know how  _not_  to flirt and it never hurt anyone anyway, and took the flask out of his hands and drank. Kyr smacked his thigh lightly, more a pat than anything, a slightly-too-aggressive-to-qualify-as-a caress, and grinned back.

“You do too,” he said.

“Come on,” Carver said, stepping back. “‘Fresher time. Gotta give you eyes so smoky they set off fire alarms.”

“No kriffing thank you,” Kyr said, giggling. Carver took his hand and Kyr stood up and let Carver guide him through a few steps of a dance, swaying together. Kyr was grinning down at Carver, a bright flush in his cheeks, and Carver grinned back.

“Don’t worry, baby, don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll be just drop-dead gorgeous by the time I’m done with you. You'll be _just fine.”_


End file.
